


won't somebody help me chase the shadows away

by arendellesfirstwinter



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Prompt Fic, lucy lane is both too old and too drunk for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7360834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arendellesfirstwinter/pseuds/arendellesfirstwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's dark, it's cold, exams are approaching, and there's a man following her. Overall, not one of Lucy's better nights. (She might as well dial the wrong number for help while she's at it.)</p><p>Tumblr prompt where Lucy's followed while walking home alone and dials the wrong number for assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	won't somebody help me chase the shadows away

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: 'it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me' AU where Lucy doesn't know Kara or Supergirl?
> 
> I'm still working on prompts (slowly but surely) and oh man, this was another fun one! I had to nerf Lucy a little bit, hence the non-sobriety in the fic, because by her age at this point in time, she's still done some tours overseas and is gonna be a lot more proficient than the regular person at combat. Lucy's really a lot of fun to write, and I kept the timeline of the show the same, just rewound it back about five years or so to place Lucy back in college, which also leads to some silliness re: Kara's current age in the fic. Anyway, I'm definitely having a lot of fun with these prompts, and thanks so much to the anon who sent this in!

It’s dark.

It’s dark, and it’s cold, and there’s like, one street lamp all the way down the block that’s actually working, if barely; the light flickers between dim and dimmer, and shadows stretch long from the muted yellow.

Lucy tucks her hands in her sleeves and folds her arms close to her chest.

Ideally, she wouldn’t be out this far from campus, and ideally, it wouldn’t be two in the morning, and ideally, she wouldn’t be walking the entire distance, and _ideally_ she wouldn’t be alone except for one tall guy who’s been tailing her a block back for at least five streets, but the ideal isn’t remotely reality, and here she is.

Rationally, Lucy recognizes that she’s relatively more trained than the average civilian. She’s done multiple tours overseas, she’s a good several years older than the general college student, and she’s combat-trained and tested. She’s a captain in the U.S. Army with multiple medals awarded to her name, and plans to enter into the Judge Advocate General’s Corps  once she’s completed her JD.

Lucy _also_ recognizes that she may or may not be significantly buzzed after a rather exhausting night out with younger peers and their higher stamina. (Not that Lucy can’t hold her liquor, but she has exams next week and this plan to loosen up might have overshot the goal just a bit.)

She reaches the end of the street, turns the corner, and speeds up. Her breath mists in the frosty air before her, and this neighborhood of the city is quiet except for the continued footsteps behind her.

Spotting a phone booth up ahead (really? those still exist in 2011?), Lucy exhales gratefully and half-jogs her way over, thankful for one shining bit of luck this night. Her own cell lies in pieces back at her apartment just off-campus, remnants of an incident several weeks ago that Lucy hasn’t gotten around to correcting.

Even more gratefully, Lucy notes there’s a _lock_ on the door, and she slips inside and clicks it shut just as the man who’s been following her rounds the corner down the street. He’s big, easily over six feet, and no matter how trained Lucy might be, she’s too short and too not-sober to deal with him right now.

Nerves starting to kick in, Lucy fumbles for a few coins from her pocket and slips them into the machine, grabbing the phone and punching in James’ number to the best of her admittedly hazy memory.

The man’s slowed his walk, eyes piercing in the dark, and Lucy drums the fingers of one hand against her leg as she holds the phone in the other, listening nervously to the dial tone, and then the three long rings before the other end picks up.

Lucy doesn’t give James a chance to talk. “James, hey, sorry to bother you but I’m in the middle of downtown, on - “ she squints at the street signs “ - Irving and Kendall, and I’m kinda drunk, and some guy’s been following me for the past five blocks and I could really use some help because now I’ve locked myself in a phone booth and he’s getting closer by the second.”

The other end of the line clicks, and Lucy pulls the phone from her ear, staring dumbfoundedly.

Did he just hang up?

Swallowing dryly, Lucy glances to see the man halfway down the street now, and she has maybe thirty more seconds to sober up _fast_ and hope her training kicks in, because this guy’s not slowing down and apparently no help is coming and oh god, no amount of non-sobriety can explain why she decided walking fifteen blocks to her apartment in the middle of the night was even _remotely_ a good idea, and -

And there’s a girl?

Lucy blinks as a girl sprints from around the corner, glasses askew and blonde hair billowing behind her as she makes a beeline for Lucy and the man stalking her.

The man turns, following Lucy’s gaze and the sound of running, and Lucy’s eyes widen as the girl continues running headfirst towards him. He stiffens, starts to slip into a steadier stance and draws himself up to a menacing height, and Lucy’s already scrambling for the lock so she can burst out and help this girl before she gets herself hurt.

Except -

Lucy’s jaw drops as the girl decks the man in the face with enough force to send him crumpling to the ground.

_What._

Even stranger, the girl freezes, arm outstretched and hand still curled in a fist, and she suddenly looks _guilty_ as she realizes that she’s punched this man with enough force to knock him out with one blow.

“Oops,” she mutters.

Lucy snorts.

Jerking upwards, the girl runs a hand through her hair and darts forward, and Lucy closes her mouth slowly and opens the phone booth. She sways, still tipsy and overall confused, and the girl catches her arms.

“Are you okay?” she asks, pushing her glasses up and flashing a brilliantly bright smile.

“Um,” Lucy answers intelligently. “Yes?”

“Good,” the girl says, breathing what sounds weirdly like a sigh of relief. “I came as soon as you called, because I was, uh. Out in the area. Coincidentally. Just a couple blocks over that way - “ she gestures vaguely “ - anyway point is, I ran over as fast as I could, and I just kinda - “ she moves her hands, scrunches her face and throws a couple of mock punches “ - so yeah.”

The street falls silent as Lucy stares.

“...Who are you?”

The girl cocks her head. “You’re the one who called me, remember?”

Lucy narrows her eyes. “You’re not James.”

“...No?”

“I called the wrong number, didn’t I?”

Laughing, the girl leans down to pick up a fallen quarter from the floor of the phone booth and presses it into Lucy’s hand. “I’m starting to think so, yeah. I’m Kara Danvers, by the way.” She extends a hand in greeting.

Lucy’s gaze flits briefly between the outstretched hand and the unconscious man lying behind the unassuming Kara before she takes it. “Lucy Lane. That’s one hell of a right hook.”

“Oh! Um, yeah, you think? I, um. Work out.” Kara blows a loose strand of hair from her face and grins. “Well, since I’m here, want an escort back to wherever it is you were headed?”

“My apartment.” Lucy steps forward, nudging the man with her foot. His head lolls to the side and a slight stream of blood dribbles from his nose. She pulls her shoe away and wrinkles her nose. Serves him right.

“Right, well.” Kara shifts her weight from one sneakered foot to the other. Lucy notes with some amusement that her laces aren’t even tied. Surveying Kara’s outfit, she raises an eyebrow at the pajama pants and shirt, and she’s not drunk enough to miss the obvious clues that Kara was likely _not_ just out and about.

(Which fills Lucy with a mixture of gratitude that Kara arrived so quickly and puzzlement that she felt the need to lie about it. But where Lucy might normally press for more information, uncomfortable at obvious falsehoods, she decides to bite her tongue. Kara _did_ do her a large favor, and Lucy’s not confident she can argue decently in her current state.)

“Can I walk you home?” Kara offers again.

It’s quite possibly the first time she’s been offered this, and Lucy will readily admit that this wasn’t remotely the scenario she might’ve had in mind, nor is Kara, baby-faced and blonde, who Lucy might’ve expected to be the one to deliver the line.

Part of Lucy wants to snort, because she’s a literal _war veteran_ , but as she looks Kara over yet again, the uninhibited part of her brain gives the stellar observation: _Kara’s hot._

So Lucy shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Kara smiles.

“Also, your shoes are untied.”

Kara’s smile drops, and Lucy _does_ snort as Kara jerks downwards and ties her laces with a quick flourish before bouncing up and giving an “Alright, now let’s go!”

And then Kara actually _loops her arm around Lucy’s_ and Lucy half expects her to take them both skipping off down the lane, because even though Kara’s surely in her mid-20s (no one younger would be out this late alone), she gives off a distinctly youthful vibe.

So they don’t quite skip, but they do begin their walk back, and Lucy’s still cold but Kara’s a _furnace_ and that’s the only reason she maybe pulls Kara just a little closer, and she doesn’t spare a single glance backwards to the man still lying on the sidewalk as she steers the two of them back to her place.

Kara’s voice cuts through the air a block after they’ve started. “Why didn’t you call 911?”

Nearly tripping, Lucy coughs and hopes she can pass off the red in her cheeks as a result of the cold. “I wasn’t. Thinking things through. That thoroughly.”

When Kara laughs, Lucy flushes.

“Is that so?” There’s a teasing lilt in Kara’s tone. “Would that have anything to do with the alcohol I can smell on your breath?”

 _Shit_. Lucy brings her hand up to her mouth and breathes, but is distracted by the full, rich sound of Kara’s laughter (which is a really pretty sound, Lucy decides, and she wouldn’t mind hearing more of it). “That obvious?” Lucy relents.

“Just a little,” Kara jokes as they round a street Lucy recognizes by sight alone. There’s maybe only one more block to her apartment building, and a part of her’s already crafting an excuse to invite Kara in as thanks as another part reminds Lucy’s she’s taken up enough of Kara’s time tonight.

Sighing quietly, Lucy leans in closer because Kara is _warm_ , and she’s contemplating at least offering to buy lunch for Kara tomorrow when Kara comments, “If it helps, you’re not nearly as bad as others I’ve seen. Honestly, I don’t really get it, but I’m not even legally allowed to drink yet, so - “

“ _Wait_.”

Lucy pulls them both to an abrupt halt just as she spies her complex down the street. Grabbing Kara’s shoulders, Lucy draws herself up to her admittedly small height and stares straight into Kara’s eyes, deadly serious.

“How old are you?” Lucy asks dramatically.

Kara stares. “Twen-ty?”

Separating abruptly from Kara, Lucy puts her hands to her face and groans audibly.

 _Twenty_.

Kara is _a child_.

Oh god, Lucy was checking out a _child_.

“I thought you were hot,” Lucy whispers, mortified.

“Oh! Well, uh, thank you, you are too, I mean - “

“ _No_.” Lucy cuts Kara off with a frantic wave. “I am _too old_. I was planning to flirt with a _child_.”

“I’m _twenty_!” Kara protests indignantly before pausing. "Wait, you were planning to flirt with me?"

“Nope, no, nope,” Lucy mutters, shaking her head and jolting forward. “I am not sober enough for this. You are not _old_ enough for this.”

“How old are _you_?” Kara matches Lucy’s pace easily.

“Twenty-seven and old enough to know better.”

“That’s not bad at all!”

Lucy claps her hands over her ears. “I’m not hearing this.”

“I also _saved_ you, so I think that deserves some credit - “

“I’m a captain in the U.S. Army, I’d’ve managed - “

“Yes, you sounded very confident as you called my number at two in the morning - “

“I am not arguing this right now.” Lucy reaches the door to her building and clumsily gropes for her keys in her pockets (are they in her coat or her pants?). She fishes them out after half a minute and lofts them triumphantly, though she swears she feels something ghost against her jacket. She slips the key into the door with a grin.

Pausing, Lucy turns to see an amused Kara still watching, and Lucy straightens herself up, pretends she hasn’t made an utter fool of herself tonight, and extends a hand. “Thank you for coming to help a stranger out,” she says.

Kara takes Lucy’s hand firmly and beams. “My pleasure, _Captain_.”

Glancing out at the dark streets, Lucy frowns. “Are you okay walking back on your own? My place is open if you need to crash for the night.” There’s something decidedly uncomfortable in the idea of letting a typical twenty-year-old wander the streets at this hour.

But then, Lucy thinks, Kara’s not the typical twenty-year-old.

“I’ll be just fine.” Kara smiles, eyes twinkling like she knows some secret Lucy doesn’t. And then she waves goodbye, and Lucy watches until Kara rounds a corner out of sight, before at long last, Lucy heads into the building and makes her way up to her apartment.

She cranks the thermostat up and sighs in relief at the end of one ordeal of a night as she bolts the door behind her. Peeling her jacket off, she checks the pockets by habit and pauses. Her fingers run over the edge of a slip of paper, and she pulls it out cautiously.

One side is blank, slightly wrinkled.

Lucy flips it around, curious.

And she _laughs_.

Because there, written sloppily on the other side, is a string of digits and a scrawled note:

 

_Hey Captain - you owe me. I accept food as payment._

_Kara Danvers_

_(P.S. I turn 21 in two weeks. Is that old enough?)_

**Author's Note:**

> (For the record, Kara went back to check on the guy.)
> 
> If you'd like, come find me at nationalcitykara.tumblr.com!


End file.
